"By Jove!" ejaculated Ross, absolutely taken aback. "She's a whopper. Old Barry's got a battleship. If she isn't a sister ship to the Tremendous, I'm a——"
Fortunately for him, Ross refrained from saying what he might be, for as things turned out he was wrong. The Hunbilker commenced her career as a 6000-ton merchantman, but no one would recognize her as such.
In all probability, but for the war, she would have ended her career as such. But the Navy required her for a certain purpose, and loyally the old tramp stepped into the breach. When, after a lapse of nine weeks, she emerged from the repairing basin, her disguise was complete. She looked to be what she was not. It is, therefore, no cause for wonderment that the two midshipmen were deceived by the enormous outlines of what appeared to be a formidable unit of the British Navy. The Hunbilker was, in short, a maritime ass in lion's skin, but her role was none the less a responsible one.
"I was rather doubtful whether you would turn up," remarked Barry. "The glass is dropping like billy-ho, and there's a brute of a sea tumbling in."
"We need not return to-night," announced Ross.
"That's capital," rejoined the Lieutenant-Commander. "I'll get the hands to hoist in the boat and trice the accommodation-ladder up. We roll like a barrel in a sea-way."
"You've got a big command this time, sir," said Vernon.
Barry smiled.
"Yes," he replied. "Plenty of room, but the lighting 'tween decks is rotten. All artificial, you know, except the little we get in through the quarter-deck skylights. I'm expecting young Jolly; he's the A. P. you saw ashore at Invergordon. Not a bad sort of youngster when he's clear of his work. Would you like to look round before we go below?"
"Of course the Germans know all about our dummy battleships," continued Barry as he led the way. "They jeered at the scheme in the papers as far back as last November twelvemonth."